Rebellion against the shogun! (Open)

[Shimono]

Clouds sat heavy in the night sky over Izumi. The waters of Azamo Bay were dark and still. A few lamps shining at the doors of the inns and gambling dens near the docks were reflected in the water as dim points of light. The city, the largest port on the island and the only city where foreigners were permitted, hummed with a muted energy even after the sunset signaled the end of most business.

At the edge of the city, a man in a dark hooded cloak stepped up to the entrance to a gambling den. Two thugs moved to block his path, hands on the swords at their waists. One of them snarled, “What do you want?”

“I am here to see Koji Mamushi,” the hooded man said in a low voice. Though his volume was lowered, the words still held an imperious tone. This man did not seem like someone who was accustomed to having his entry barred.

“Oh?” The same thug who had first spoken took another step towards the man. “Get out of my sight, fool.”

“Itsuki!” A voice snapped from behind the two thugs. A man was standing in the open door of the den, looking angry. “This is the visitor I was expecting, you idiot!”

“Sorry, boss!” The thug spun around, his hands clasped together in front of him, and bowed in apology. “I didn’t know…”

“Shut up!” The man in the doorway gestured to the hooded man. “Come inside.”

The pair walked through the gambling den. Most of the people inside were too focused on their games, or their sake, or their opium, to give any notice or care. Those that did soon turned their gaze elsewhere, less the man who had let the hooded man inside take notice of them. The pair passed through the public spaces and into a private room, where the only other company were a pair of women.

“You can take off that cloak now,” the man said as he sat down.

The hooded man slowly reached up and drew back the hood, revealing an older man with a graying beard and hard, flinty eyes. He looked at the seated man with disappointment. “I thought I would be meeting with Koji.”

Ryuji Mamushi, younger brother of Koji and second-in-command of the Mamushi criminal clan, laughed and snapped his fingers at the women, who hurried to bring over a tray with drinks. “Koji is out of town,” Ryuji told the man. “He left all the information. I can complete this transaction just fine.”

Takeshi Yarikawa sighed in frustration. The head of Clan Yarikawa would have preferred to deal with Ryuji’s older brother. Koji was more mature, and more stable. Ryuji still burned with the fires of youth. But there was no point in arguing now. “Then you know what I’m expecting you to provide. Enough ronin and gamblers to give me an edge over the Nakidori, and their Shimura lap dogs.

“They’ll be ready in two days' time,” Ryuji answered. “Then you’ll have all the swords you asked for. Now, when will you pay us the rest of what you owe?”

Takeshi drew a heavy sack from his robes and tossed it onto the table. It clattered, and a hint of gold glinted in the light. Ryuji leaned forward hungrily and peered into the sack, looking at the golden ryo nestled within. He laughed, taking one out to inspect it.

“Such a small, pretty thing. You’d never guess it could buy a man’s sword…or his death.” He turned to look at Takeshi. “Just remember your friends the Mamushi when you sit on the shogun’s throne, eh?”

“Of course,” Takeshi said flatly.

Of course he would remember the criminals when he had supplanted the Nakidori clan and assumed the title of shogun. As the new ruler of Shimono - the true ruler, not that figurehead Emperor who spent all his time secluded in the imperial city - he would have a duty to maintain order, keep peace, and enforce justice. Which meant he would exterminate the Mamushi clan. No doubt they thought they could survive him, just as they had survived the Nakidori shogunate’s feeble efforts to combat their criminality. That weakness, along with their ridiculous notions of allowing foreigners to corrupt the Empire, was why they needed to be replaced.

“Good, good,” Ryuji said with a clap of his hands. “Well, then now it is time for celebration! Stay, have a drink…choose a woman, if you’d like?”

Takeshi Yarikawa rose from his seat, smoothing out the folds in his clothing. “No, thank you,” he told the criminal boss. “There is much work to do.”

Omi

Lord Masao Nakidori, shogun of Shimono, stood at the head of the large table. A map of the island had been spread out and pinned down at the corners, and small wooden markers representing the armies of the various Shimonese clans had been placed in rough approximation of their actual locations. Those loyal to the shogunate were colored in blue, and those who had chosen to side with the Yarikawa rebels were colored in red. A few were unpainted - these indicated that a clan had not yet declared for one side or another. They were waiting to see which way the contest would turn before committing to the winning faction. Cowards.

The doors at the other end of the room opened with a bang, and Kichiro Shimura, son of the clan’s patriarch, strode in wearing his armor. His retainers followed in behind him. He made a perfunctory bow and then closed the distance to the table.

“Clan Shimura stands ready, my lord,” he announced. “Who else has joined us?”

“Not enough,” Masao said bluntly. “The Arashikage, of course. Some of the minor clans. But the Oga have not answered my summons.”

“Cowards,” Kichiro spat, echoing the shogun’s earlier thought. Then, a sudden realization struck the young man. “What of the Takamura?”

The shogun took a deep breath, and sighed deeply. “It seems that they have sided with the Yarikawa rebels.” He saw the question on the younger man’s face and answered it before he could speak it. “Suzume was in Yagata when the rebellion broke out. There has been no word. I have to assume that she is a prisoner.”

“No!” Kichiro gasped. “We must rescue her, at once!”

“We will,” Masao said. He stepped around the table and placed a reassuring hand on Kichiro’s shoulder pauldron. “We will rescue her, Kichiro. But I must not let my concern for my daughter distract us from the coming battle. The Yarikawa and Takamura have their own allies, and more. Takeshi has amassed an army of ronin and criminals to fight under his banner. We will be outnumbered.”

“I will cut through a dozen worthless ronin with one stroke!” Kichiro declared. “I will carve a path to Yagata, and rescue my betrothed.”

“Then ready your men,” Masao commanded. “We will march out together, and defeat this rebellion before it drowns all of Shimono in blood.”

(This is Past Tech. Shimono has been isolated for centuries, and so it does not have firearms besides cannons. Battles are fought with bow and sword. Foreigners can use weapons and technology from the American Civil War period. If you have questions send me a Telegram. Please do not immediately send thousands of men or try to conquer the island for yourself. You can assume your nation already has merchants or missionaries in Shimono.)

[Shimono]

Yagata

Lord Yarikawa and his army arrived at the gates of the Takamura stronghold and passed through without incident. The city already flew the rebellious clan’s banner, signaling its allegiance to the Yarikawa in their bid for power. A few misguided loyalists had been executed, but most of the populace had either embraced the rebellion or simply declined to show any disapproval. This was sufficient for Takeshi Yarikawa - he did not need to be beloved by the people. He would settle for their obedience, and their fear.

In the great hall of Castle Takamura, the great stone fortress that dominated the city, the rebel lords gathered for their first true war council. Like the shogun in Omi, they looked at a map of the island dotted with wooden figures representing the various clans. Where Lord Nakidori saw danger, the rebels saw opportunity. They had the advantage of surprise, and at the moment their combined armies outnumbered the forces loyal to the shogun.

“We must strike quickly,” Kenta Takamura declared. “The neutral clans are waiting to see who shows the greater strength. A swift victory will bring them onto our side.”

“Do not be too hasty,” Lord Yarikawa cautioned. “The Nakidori have powerful allies. The Arashikage are the best swordsmen on the island. We have greater numbers, it is true. But if we advance too quickly we could find ourselves in a bloodbath.”

“And if we advance too slowly, then we allow the enemy to set the terms of the engagement,” Takamura retorted. “My warriors thirst for the glory of battle, Lord Yarikawa. I do not wish to keep it from them any longer than absolutely necessary.”

There was a sound of air being sucked through teeth. A tall, lanky man in a wide-brimmed straw hat stirred from where he had been leaning quietly against the wall. His name was Rikuto, and he had somehow been selected as the representative for the ronin gathered by the Mamushi criminal clan.

“What about my men, eh? It’s all good for you samurai to talk about glory, but glory doesn’t feed a rumbling stomach. We were promised food, and gold.” The man looked each of the samurai lords in the eye. “You’re not forgetting about us already, are you?”

“You and your ronin will get what you were promised,” Takeshi spat. “Don’t waste our time complaining when you haven’t done any work worth paying for yet. You’ll get your bounty soon.”

“Just not in my city, you hear?” Kenta interjected. “I don’t want any of your rabble making trouble. Save that for the enemy, eh?”

Rikuto clicked his tongue and walked out of the room. Lord Takamura took one step forward, opening his mouth to say something to the disrespectful sellsword, but Takeshi Yarikawa put a hand on his arm.

“Leave him be, Lord Takamura. He is obnoxious, yes. But we need those gamblers to bolster our army until the neutral clans see that their only option is to join with us. Until then, we must hold our noses and put up with the lowlifes.” Takeshi let go of the other man’s arm. “Besides, you had something to show me, yes?”

A wide grin crept over Lord Takamura’s face. “Haha, yes I did, Lord Yarikawa. This way.”

The two lords left the great hall and traveled down to the lower level of the castle, where prisoners were held. At the far end of a dimly-lit hallway, a pair of guards stood in front of a door with a small barred window. They stepped to the sides when Lord Takamura approached. One of them handed over the key which opened the door’s heavy lock.

“I’m her uncle, you know,” Takamura said as he turned the key in the lock. “She never suspected a thing.”

“What about her bodyguard?” Lord Yarikawa asked. The Nakidori family all traveled with their own personal bodyguards, selected from among the finest blades in the Arashikage clan. They were legendary in both their skill and their devotion to their charges.

“She might have made things tricky,” Takamura admitted. “But I had a secret advantage.” Before Lord Yarikawa could press him further on that cryptic remark, Lord Takamura pushed the door open. The prison cell had no windows and no torches. The only light came from the fires burning in the hallway. One of the guards handed Lord Takamura a torch to illuminate the prisoners, who were chained by their wrists to the far wall.

Suzume Nakidori, the daughter of the shogun, looked up at the two rebel lords with eyes red from crying. Her hair and clothing were disheveled, but her beauty was still evident even in that distressed state. She squinted into the light, and for a moment she said nothing as her eyes adjusted…then she scowled at Lord Yarikawa.

“I should have known,” she huffed. “Whatever crazy gamble you’re making, it won’t succeed. My father will destroy both of you!”

“That Nakidori arrogance persists,” Lord Takamura commented.

“Your father’s time is over,” Lord Yarikawa told the young woman. “His weakness has allowed foreigners to corrupt the honorable traditions of Shimono. I will march to Omi and mount his head on a spike!”

Suzume thrashed against the chains, but they held her fast. Yarikawa turned to Takamura. “And what about her bodyguard?” Takamura used the torch to indicate another figure, similarly restrained on the other side of the chamber. Kimiko Arashikage wore the clothes of a warrior, but they could not totally obscure the attractive body beneath them. She was slumped against the wall, seemingly catatonic.

“Her shame at being caught unawares has overtaken her entirely,” Lord Takamura explained. “It was easy enough to do, once my ally had told me about all her possible tricks.”

A third man stepped into the chamber and walked up beside Lord Takamura. Kimiko looked up, and the face she saw sent her into a rage greater than Suzume’s. She began to lunge at him, the chains going completely taut as they strained to keep her from tearing out his throat with her teeth. Toru Arashikage laughed at his former clanswoman. He had been disgraced and exiled from the Arashikage, but now Lord Yarikawa’s rebellion offered him a chance at revenge.

“Let’s leave these two to their privacy,” Lord Takamura suggested. “We have a march on Omi to plan, don’t we Lord Yarikawa?”

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Khemu-the-Merchant watched as the sailors diligently loaded one ship and unloaded another, staring off into the midday waves at Port Nosu as he evaluated the situation. Khemu was a savvy and successful man, and he was well n his way to becoming the most affluent man in Aháà, or at least was among them, and was even somewhat of a celebrity himself. After all, Khemu-the-Merchant's name was on every box currently being moved at Nosu, and on many of the stores in the inner city, and he would never let anyone forget that it was his investments that brought on "Shimono Fever" in Aháà once the Shogun graciously opened his country's door to the exotic flavors of Aháà. His plan was simple; he would fill one boat with Aháàng goods, mainly furs and incenses and bobbles and trinkets that would evoke the emotions of the Shimono people, and he would send it over with another ship, larger, to escort it. The ships unload the goods in Shimono, would keep the returns made from selling Aháàng goods in Shimono (naturally, at a mark up), and above a certain percentage the extra income would be spent filling the two ships up with Shimonese goods he purchased to bring back to Aháà, mark up, even more, and sell to a populace that could not seem to resist a fascination with the Shimonese products, no matter the quality or function. It was an easy, relatively safe investment, and it had made Khemu-the-Merchant very rich in a short amount of time. He was in good standing politically, with the Nkolé, with The Temple, and especially the citizenry.

This would all change at the announcement of impending rebellion, and this upset not only Khemu-the-Merchant, and not only his powerful friends, either, but it upset his profits, and to that end Khemu swiftly decided that something must be done. That something, Khemu decided, was a petition to a friend, who had a friend, who's friend then in turn happened to be the Nkolé - the king. The sound of heels clicking on the dock behind him alerted him to the presence of two men, the first he recognized to be a man named Tarbhosh, one of the Nkolé's favored commanders. Beside him was a member of the clergy, and both men greeted him warmly. The formalities were quick. The Nkolé was sick, ailing in the final bedridden days of cancer, and the medicine that comforted him made him quite amenable to Khemu's plight.

"But with those demons in the south rattling their sabres again, he can not commit the military to the situation in Shimonu at this time. You will not get the artillery you requested, however I have been granted power to assemble you a small volunteer force from the reserves as guards for your merchants. As well, I have accrued a large sum," explained Tarbhosh, gesturing to keep calm the energetic Khemu. "For the clan Hatano. They are loyal only nominally to the shogun for now, but now perhaps we will be able to measure their courage in gold."

"Mercenarys?" Khemu exhaled sharply. "I ask for home bred, mighty warriors, and you tell me to hire sellswords? How will I protect my investments and stomp out the rebels who so threaten the peaceful Shimonese economy?"

"It is not your place to stomp out any rebels, and this mission will be for no such purpose. The purpose of this mission is to secure the loyalty of the Hatano to the shogun, protect peace in the market place, and ensure peace is kept whenever possible. This is not war we are partaking in, this is a peace keeping mission." Khemu was not fond of the elderly priest who now addressed him directly, firmly. " I wil be departing on this ship when it sails, with the volunteers and the money in tow. The Nkolé defers this matter to The Temple, and now you must place faith in me and the gods, for your business is now in our hands."

And so it was that in a week's time the clergyman, Sehu al Mazari, 85 reserve soldiers, and the merchant crew departed from Port Nosu and sailed the long journey to Shimono. The reserve soldiers were sufficiently armed for their purpose, with each carrying a sword and pistol and hand shields, and some also armed with spears, daggers, and war clubs. The atmosphere was tense when they landed, and marched in file to the market place to defend the stalls there from rebel interference. As soon as he had exited the ship, Sehu then sent word for the Hatano. He sent out a missive to the local directory, asking for the easiest way to come into contact with officials of the Hatano clan, as he was a diplomat on a mission serving "The Second Power of Zaambate Té Aháà, for the mutual interest of peace and security for Shimono."

[Shimono]

And so it was that in a week's time the clergyman, Sehu al Mazari, 85 reserve soldiers, and the merchant crew departed from Port Nosu and sailed the long journey to Shimono. The reserve soldiers were sufficiently armed for their purpose, with each carrying a sword and pistol and hand shields, and some also armed with spears, daggers, and war clubs. The atmosphere was tense when they landed, and marched in file to the market place to defend the stalls there from rebel interference. As soon as he had exited the ship, Sehu then sent word for the Hatano. He sent out a missive to the local directory, asking for the easiest way to come into contact with officials of the Hatano clan, as he was a diplomat on a mission serving "The Second Power of Zaambate Té Aháà, for the mutual interest of peace and security for Shimono."

Izumi

The arrival of the soldiers from Zaambate Té Aháà in the port city of Izumi led to considerable fear and confusion. Though they were not great in number, the sight of armed foreigners marching towards the city’s market conjured the stories of the terrible barbarian invasion generations ago. People shut themselves and their families inside their homes, while the town’s rulers, the Nagao clan, hastened to mobilize a response.

The file of soldiers were met at the edge of the marketplace by a line of Clan Nagao samurai. In front of the warriors, seated on horseback, was Hiroshi Nagao, leader of the clan. He shouted, “Foreign invaders, you will halt immediately!”

When a translator arrived - only a few of the city’s merchants spoke any language other than Shimonese - and it was revealed that the foreign warriors had come to bolster the shogun, Lord Nagao thanked them for their support and apologized for the hostile welcome.

“Lord Nagao asks that your warriors wait onboard your ship for now,” the translator told Sehu. “That way, they will not alarm the population of the city. Lord Nagao will send a messenger to the Hatano. He will also send word of your arrival to the shogun, and seek further instruction.”

The Hatano clan’s stronghold was closer, so they were the first to respond to the messages from the Nagao. A procession of warriors and attendants traveled to Izumi, to meet with these strangers. The Nagao were insistent that any meetings take place within the port city - by imperial decree, foreign travel outside of Izumi was forbidden. A few brave or foolish missionaries occasionally violated that law to proselytize in the surrounding countryside, but such actions could be punished by death or expulsion from the island.

Lord Takahiro Hatano was a burly man, who wore a seemingly perpetual expression of gruff disappointment. He stood silent, with his arms crossed, while his son Yoshi spoke to Sehu on his father’s behalf. Or rather, Yoshi Hatano spoke long sentences in Shimonese, and a merchant who spoke the foreign language translated.

“Lord Hatano has heard that you have traveled a long distance to seek an audience with him,” the translator said. “In the spirit of hospitality, he has agreed to hear whatever it is you have to say. But first, he says he must give you a word of caution. Foreign barbarians once came to our shores, and they spread division with their words. Their ultimate fate was to be slaughtered like animals, and stain the white sand beaches of our island with their blood. So he asks you to choose your words carefully.”

[Shimono]

The shogunate army was composed of the samurai from Clan Nakidori, Clan Shimura, Clan Arashikage, and a few other loyal clans. They rode on horseback, though they would not use the mounts in battle. Their attendants and servants rode in oxen-pulled wagons, along with the supplies, at the back of the army. Their objective was to meet the rebel army near the city of Yagata, the Takamura clan stronghold. The rebellion had to meet a quick check, in order to ensure the continued loyalty of the wavering clans. Kichiro Shimura, the son of the clan’s patriarch, was also eager to rescue the shogun’s captive daughter Suzume, because she was betrothed to him.

“We are not marching fast enough,” Kichiro said one night, when the army was camped on the grasslands outside the village of Kishi. He kicked a rock in frustration, sending it skittering across the dirt and into the crackling fire.

“Hey, don’t knock over my logs,” Junichi Nakidori, the son of the shogun, chided his longtime friend. “I did a really good job of making that fire.”

“If we marched through the night, instead of making campfires–”

“Then we would get to Yagata and be too tired to fight,” Junichi said calmly. “My father is not a military novice, Kichiro. Neither is your father. They are keen warriors. I’m sure they’re moving as fast as they can.”

Kichiro huffed, but Junichi’s words seemed to calm him down. He stopped pacing and sat down, sighing heavily.

“Suzume is the daughter of the shogun,” Junichi said. “They’ll need her as leverage, to try and force my father to stand down.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me?”

“It is,” Junichi insisted. “It means they won’t dare harm her. Not until we’re close enough for a rescue.”

“I suppose it will be pretty impressive, when I save her from Yagata’s dungeons,” Kichiro said, still a little unsure of the words.

Junichi smiled and nodded. “Exactly. Just keep thinking like that.”

Hiyoshi

The shogun had sent word of the rebellion to the imperial city. This had provoked the ire of the Emperor’s wife, Yumi. She was, by general agreement, one of the most beautiful people on the island. Yet fewer knew of her quick temper, or her quiet loathing of Clan Nakidori. Now both were on full display in front of her husband.

“He sends a messenger?! The mighty shogun cannot spare the time to come before his Emperor and report the situation in person?” She stormed around the room in a flurry of silks, while Emperor Hiroto sat serenely on a tatami mat near the window, enjoying the sound of songbirds chirping in the trees of the garden outside.

“He is no doubt busy, arranging to defeat the rebellion,” the Emperor replied calmly. “I am sure he will come to make his full report, when the situation is dealt with.”

“So he will act on his own initiative, without even consulting you?” Yumi scoffed. “The Nakidori have grown arrogant. Perhaps this rebellion is exactly what is needed - a chance to topple them off of their high perch.”

“And what good would that do, eh?” The Emperor asked. His patience with the petty grudges and schemes of his wife was not infinite. “The Yarikawa merely seek to replace them.”

“But if you offered them your support, then we could negotiate–”

“We?” The Emperor arched an eyebrow. “Remember your place, wife. I shall decide what course is best for my island.”

Yumi, recognizing her overstep, bowed low in apology. “I beg pardon, my Emperor. I merely seek–”

“I know what you seek,” Hiroto interrupted. “Tread lightly, Yumi. The title of Empress is a mantle not easily worn.”

Yumi seemed to be debating whether or not to say something, when the door at the other side of the room opened. In rushed the couple’s daughter, Yumiko, in a state of great distress. "Is it true? The rebels captured Suzume?" The princess and the shogun's daughter were close in age, and Clan Nakidori's close proximity to the imperial family had allowed them to become good friends. Yumi looked to her husband, who rose and wrapped his daughter in a comforting embrace while his wife walked out the open door. Waiting in the hallway was her other child, the Crown Prince Taro.

"What did he say?"

"Your father is a fool who thinks himself a wise man," Yumi said quietly. "He is content to sit around all day and act like the figurehead that the Nakidori want him to be."

"Stupid old man," Taro muttered. "This is a golden opportunity, and he's pissing it away!"

"Perhaps there is still a chance for us to take some advantage," Yumi said. She motioned for her son to follow her down a corridor, further away from the room with the Emperor and Yumiko. "Perhaps a message could find its way to the Yarikawa, with intimations of support from the imperial family?" Taro began to object, but Yumi silenced him by continuing to talk. "Merely a suggestion of support would rally the clans who have remained neutral. A light touch on the scales can shift the balance immensely."

Taro thought for a moment, then nodded. "I have a few contacts who could pass along such a message."

"Good," Yumi said. "This will require a delicate hand, my son. But if managed properly...you may one day take the throne as a true Emperor."

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Nervous laughter emerged from the soldiers as the Shimonese people hid from them. Nervous whispers traveled throughout their ranks as the military approached them; obviously there had been an oversight regarding the proper authorities knowing of their arrival in Shimono, and clearly they were in for a brutal misunderstanding. All tensions were eased when the translator arrived, and the soldiers complied,returning to their ships for supper, chattering excitedly and even joking over the disruption they had caused. "You think they have never seen the mBaháàï before? They think we are dogs with hats." Laughed a young volunteer, no more than 17.
"Dogs with hats would at least be marvelled; we, my friends, shuttered whole neighborhoods with our sorry faces." Called out an older man, and the laughter grew louder.

In the stronghold of the Hatano

"I pray twice; once that your gods will bless you, and once that you will find it to forgive your humble servant, Sehu al Mazari. I had meant no offense to you, kind host, and neither had any of my men such intention." Sehu made a gesture of blessing with his hand, and bowed in respect. "Our ignorance has made us offenders in your realm, not our malicious intent. You see, these warrior souls I bring with me are all volunteers from our reserves, and they were told their duty here was to defend Aháàng merchants from the viciousness of the rebels. Furthermore, they are overcome with eagerness, for Izumi is spoken of as a gem by those who have seen it, and many of them clamor for any story to tell their friends, or any token for their children."

Sehu was dressed in a fine white robe, and his beard was long and just as white, his face weathered by his 68 years of age, yet he was the ideal Aháàng diplomat, smiling warmly and offering all his humility to his host. "I come as a representative of The Temple, the Second Power of Zaambate Té Aháà, to negotiate on behalf of our entire nation. I understand your time is precious, and the weight I bear in my duty will equally assure me to brevity. Your warriors are a formiddable sight, and I am assured by their countenance that they are equally as formiddable in combat. The force I bring is a small peace keeping force, a small fraction of that which you have to offer the esteemed shogun. I have come with the benefits of my nation, to pour out unto you, kind lord, to assure that your word is your sword." He was humble and kind when he spoke, and yet his smile was somehow dutiful and firm. He was humble, but he was not a push over.

"I pray you understand this old priest when I assure you, I am not here to purchase you, nor do I believe such a thing is possible, as your honor is great and esteemed. I am here with all the resources afforded to me by the authorities of the Second Power, which is the Temple, and I offer them to you as insurance in any conflict to come." And any resource the Temple could not afford, thought Sehu, he would be able to squeeze out of Khemu's coffers. "Every sword you will lend the shogun, every soldier you will commit, and every life that is lost will all be compensated in a way to be discussed, all reperations made to the kind Lord Hatano on behalf of all parties that are interested in the peace in Shimono. You have made a commitment to the Shogun, and to ensure that the commitment is held, I offer you the support of Aháà, in any way that that may manifest." Sehu bowed his head again, and held his hands as if praying as he awaited a response.

[Shimono]

"I pray twice; once that your gods will bless you, and once that you will find it to forgive your humble servant, Sehu al Mazari. I had meant no offense to you, kind host, and neither had any of my men such intention." Sehu made a gesture of blessing with his hand, and bowed in respect. "Our ignorance has made us offenders in your realm, not our malicious intent. You see, these warrior souls I bring with me are all volunteers from our reserves, and they were told their duty here was to defend Aháàng merchants from the viciousness of the rebels. Furthermore, they are overcome with eagerness, for Izumi is spoken of as a gem by those who have seen it, and many of them clamor for any story to tell their friends, or any token for their children."

The translator relayed these sentiments to Yoshi Hatano, who seemed to find them amusing. He said something to the merchant, who in turn repeated it in the Aháàng language.

“Lord Hatano accepts your apology, on behalf of Lord Nagao, who is entrusted with the protection and administration of Izumi. He says that your warriors will be welcome to shop in the market or view the magnificent sights of the city…as long as they do not carry themselves in a warlike manner. Here on Shimono, the people are unaccustomed to seeing anyone but the samurai wielding weapons.”

Sehu was dressed in a fine white robe, and his beard was long and just as white, his face weathered by his 68 years of age, yet he was the ideal Aháàng diplomat, smiling warmly and offering all his humility to his host. "I come as a representative of The Temple, the Second Power of Zaambate Té Aháà, to negotiate on behalf of our entire nation. I understand your time is precious, and the weight I bear in my duty will equally assure me to brevity. Your warriors are a formidable sight, and I am assured by their countenance that they are equally as formidable in combat. The force I bring is a small peace keeping force, a small fraction of that which you have to offer the esteemed shogun. I have come with the benefits of my nation, to pour out unto you, kind lord, to assure that your word is your sword." He was humble and kind when he spoke, and yet his smile was somehow dutiful and firm. He was humble, but he was not a push over.

"I pray you understand this old priest when I assure you, I am not here to purchase you, nor do I believe such a thing is possible, as your honor is great and esteemed. I am here with all the resources afforded to me by the authorities of the Second Power, which is the Temple, and I offer them to you as insurance in any conflict to come." And any resource the Temple could not afford, thought Sehu, he would be able to squeeze out of Khemu's coffers. "Every sword you will lend the shogun, every soldier you will commit, and every life that is lost will all be compensated in a way to be discussed, all reparations made to the kind Lord Hatano on behalf of all parties that are interested in the peace in Shimono. You have made a commitment to the Shogun, and to ensure that the commitment is held, I offer you the support of Aháà, in any way that that may manifest." Sehu bowed his head again, and held his hands as if praying as he awaited a response.

The merchant-turned-translator relayed this longer speech to Yoshi. Several times the younger samurai interrupted the merchant, apparently asking for repetition or further explanation of the translated words.

When Sehu was finished, the merchant told him, “Lord Hatano wishes to discuss this with his father, in private. Please, come with me.” He led Sehu into a nearby room, where servant women brought drinks. Meanwhile, the lord of Clan Hatano and his son discussed the foreigner’s offer.

“His words are honeyed, but I worry that the sweetness conceals a poison,” Yoshi Hatano said to his father Takahiro. “He flatters us, but if we accept his offer then we become little better than ronin, selling our swords to the highest bidder.”

“But as he said, he does not seek to buy our loyalty,” Takahiro Yoshi replied. “Only to sway us to support the shogun. And in truth, this was how I was leaning already…the honorable man does not seek reward for righteous behavior, but neither is he too proud to accept it when offered freely.”

“But what if the Yarikawa and their allies are too strong? Between their own samurai and the Takamura, and those ronin that they’ve amassed, their army outnumbers the Nakidori and the Shimura combined. And rumor has it that Clan Kikuchi might declare for them soon…”

“The rebels have an advantage at the moment,” Takahiro admitted. “But consider how we might affect that balance of power. These warriors the foreigners brought were armed with strange weapons. Weapons that no one on the island possesses.”

“Dishonorable weapons,” Yoshi insisted.

“Powerful weapons,” Takahiro corrected. “What if Clan Hatano was the one who provided the shogun with these weapons…and the warriors to wield them?”

Yoshi stroked his chin with one hand. “We could be the ones to tip the balance…the shogun would be indebted to our clan…but will these foreigners play the part you desire them to?”

Takahiro nodded. “I believe they will.”

An attendant opened the door to the room where Seth and the merchant translator were waiting. The merchant was sipping a small bowl of tea. He set the steaming cup down and listened to the words the attendant spoke.

“The lord of Clan Hatano has an answer for you,” the merchant told Sehu. The two men rose and followed the attendant back into the main hall, where Takahiro and Yoshi Hatano waited. This time it was Takahiro himself who spoke, not his son. Again, the merchant provided translation.

“Lord Hatano has decided to accept your generous offer. As you said, the clan has made a commitment and it will honor its duty to support the shogun and the Emperor.” The clan lord spoke again, and the merchant listened closely before translating. “Lord Hatano will also send word to the shogun, and inform him of your support. He asks whether you intend to bring more warriors, beyond those who traveled with you on your ship.”

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Sehu was gracious with the merchant-translator, and spoke in Trade Maxatanga, hoping the dialect of his native language would be the most familiar to the man. He accepted the tea, and as he awaited his summons from the officials in the next room over, he remarked glowingly, using poets words to describe his impressions of Izumi so far. "I had heard it were a harbor gem, however my eyes have sung more praises than mortal mouths can to the beauty of this city, kind friend." He always kept the air of confidence, though in truth he was worried what price the Hatano might demand, as even Khemu-the-Merchant's resources were limited. He never let that worry show, at least not consciously. If he felt his face faltering, he would drink a little tea, and regain his composure by its calming notes.

Once summoned to the next room, Sehu attempted to read the room before entering it. The atmosphere seemed receptive, but he could not be sure. He waited patiently, and nodded in understanding as Takahiro spoke, even though he could not speak Shimonese. As the translator finished relaying the message, the old priest would clear his throat. Now was the moment of truth for the negotiations, and now he were filled with resolve. He had a duty from the gods to produce here and now the best outcome not only for his patrons, Khemu and the Temple, but for all of what felt to be the entire nations of Aháà and Shimono.

"When I speak to my superiors, it is by no means off the table. The understanding at home is outdated, you see, and we were not aware that the rebels were as pressing and imminent as they are, and so I was sent only with a force to guard the markets of Izumi. When the dire nature of our situation is known, I will petition the Temple to rally the vanguard for your support, and they will have no trouble getting the Nkolé to mobilize the army proper should need come of it." This was technically not something Sehu could promise, but he said it with confidence. He was sure he could, with careful tongue, convince the temple in some way to send the vanguard, that much was true but not guaranteed. The Nkolé, however, was a wild card. Heavily sedated and in his last days of life, there was no telling which way his whims would swing unless there was a direct threat to Zaambate Té Aháà itself.

"I need only send word to the Temple, and it is done. I may also produce a sum of wealth as a sign of good faith. You needn't worry about the volunteers, honored lord, they are warriors second, and men first. They will be too concerned with jovial spirits to carry present as threatening to the commoners. I thank you, gracious lord, for your cooporation, your display of honor, and your hospitality. If at any point I have overstayed my welcome, I will not hesitate to depart from your shores. I will brief the men on their conduct tonight, and will debark them tomorrow for the market once the initial shock of our arrival has abaited on the citizenry."

[Mareyland]

The S.S. Amity was a clipper ship, one of several owned by the wealthy shipping magnate Lucius Cornwood. It plied the lengthy route between the Republic of Mareyland and the distant harbors of the Orient, like Qui Gong and Shimono. The silks, tea, porcelain, and other exotic goods that Shimono produced were in high demand in Mareyland, especially among the wealthy planter elite. The manufactured goods of Mareyland were similarly prized in Shimono. For those that could afford to sponsor ships and acquire cargo, it was a lucrative trade, but the restrictive trade policies of the shogunate kept the tap of wealth to a slow drip.

When the crew of the Amity got word of the rebellion - passed along by another trader while in port at Qui Gong - the ship's captain sensed an opportunity. Wars disrupted governments, and caused chaos. That could create an opening for the Amity to bypass the shogun's restrictions and trade with merchants and customers outside of the trading port at Izumi. Captain Connor Shannon set sail for Shimono with a hull full of trade goods, and then spent the voyage scouring whatever maps of the island he could scrounge up.

"Here," he said, pointing to a city on the opposite side of the island from Izumi. "What about here?"

"It's called...Umugi," his second mate read off the map. He was the ship's best speaker and reader of the Shimonese language. "This maps says it's controlled by the...Kagawa clan, I'm pretty sure."

"Let's hope they've got an entrepreneurial spirit," Shannon said.

"And if they don't?" The first mate asked nervously. "You know these people. They used to kill any sailor who got shipwrecked on their shores. Who says they won't try and butcher us when we sail into port?"

"Number one, there's the treaty we signed with them," Shannon answered, ticking each point off on his fingers. "Number two, that was before we started trading with them. Now they know what we have to offer. And number three, it's war time. Everyone will be looking for ways to make some money on the side, when the government is busy fighting for its life. And finally, we're gambling either way. You know Cornwood is breathing down our necks, especially after that disappointing last voyage. We need a big win. In Izumi, we'd be fighting every other merchant to get through the door. At least here, we know we'll be the only ones."

That seemed to be enough to convince the first mate. Shannon nodded, rolled up the map, and ordered, "Set course for Umugi."

[Shimono]

The shogun’s army and the rebel army were headed for a confrontation somewhere between Omi and Yagata. The most obvious point for such a battle would be Iwakumi, a rocky valley that either side would have to traverse in order to reach the stronghold of their enemy. It lay slightly closer to Omi, which meant that the shogun and his loyalists could reach the valley first and select the best ground to stand on the defensive.

“After all,” Lord Shimura told the council of war. “To succeed in this rebellion, the Yarikawa dogs must defeat us. They cannot afford the dishonor of confronting our army.”

“The rebels still outnumber our samurai,” Lord Arashikage reminded the assembled commanders. “And we should not discount the ronin they have hired to bolster their forces. Some of these men are seasoned killers. And even the ones who aren’t could still land a lucky blow.”

The shogun, Masao Nakidori, sat silently while his allies debated strategy. No matter how much he tried to pay attention to their conversation, his mind wandered elsewhere. He was worried for his daughter, a prisoner of the rebel Takamura clan. There was also the message from Clan Nagao to consider. Foreign warriors, landing in Izumi…it could be the prelude to another barbarian invasion. Could the rebellion be the work of another Khotun, seeking to divide and conquer the Shimonese people once again?

“My lord?”

Masao shook out of his thoughts. The others were all looking to him. “What?”

Lord Shimura hesitated before answering. “Lord Arashikage suggested that we position our men along the eastern approach, to meet the rebels on the near side of the valley. I think it would be wiser to meet them on the far side.”

“It places our backs to the valley,” Lord Arashikage protested. “If we have to retreat -”

“We will not retreat before these rebels!” Lord Shimura declared. “We must be prepared to pursue them, once we achieve a rout.”

“A rout?” Lord Arashikage shook his head. “We cannot seek a decisive battle here, Lord Shimura. Overconfidence will only lead -”

“Do not presume to lecture me on overconfidence, Lord Arashikage!” The mood in the room had gone deathly silent. The tension hung thick between the two samurai lords, who had frequently found themselves in argument.

“We are still two days march from Iwakumi,” the shogun said finally. “I will consider your proposals, and make a decision before we arrive at the valley.” He rose, and the others hurried to rise as well. “There is much on my mind. Leave me.”

The lords filed out of the tent. Lord Shimura and Lord Arashikage shot frustrated glances at each other as they waited their turns to exit. Masao sighed and rubbed his temple. He needed a clear head for the battle to come. Listening to his vassals argue would only put more fog in his brain. He called for tea, and decided to meditate.

"I need only send word to the Temple, and it is done. I may also produce a sum of wealth as a sign of good faith. You needn't worry about the volunteers, honored lord, they are warriors second, and men first. They will be too concerned with jovial spirits to carry present as threatening to the commoners. I thank you, gracious lord, for your cooperation, your display of honor, and your hospitality. If at any point I have overstayed my welcome, I will not hesitate to depart from your shores. I will brief the men on their conduct tonight, and will debark them tomorrow for the market once the initial shock of our arrival has abated on the citizenry."

Takahiro Hatano listened to the merchant translate Sehu’s words, and then spoke once again. The merchant relayed what the samurai lord said:

“Lord Hatano will prepare a document, attesting to your trustworthiness, for presentation to Lord Nagao, who governs the port of Izumi. This will ensure that there is no misunderstandings going forward. But he also suggests that, rather than guarding the markets of Izumi, your warriors might join with those of Clan Hatano and Clan Nagao, and march to the aid of the shogun. He has rallied the clans to his banner, to confront the rebels and root out their treachery.”

Meanwhile, in Izumi, Haru Nagao was quickly composing a letter of his own. The younger brother of Lord Nagao did not share his sibling’s loyalty to the shogun. In fact, he saw the Yarikawa rebellion as his chance to achieve his ambitions and become the new lord of Clan Nagao. So he was writing to Lord Yarikawa, informing him that the shogun had apparently summoned foreign barbarians to fight for him. Providing such valuable intelligence would no doubt earn him favor, when the Yarikawa displaced the Nakidori and became the new shogun clan.

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Finally, this was a request that Sehu could not fulfill, and he received the words with pursed lips as he contemplated a counter offer. He had been granted these men as guards for the market place, not frontline combatants, and neither the temple nor the Nkolé would send more arms, let alone men, if they knew Sehu would commit them to fighting. No, this was off the table. "There is a kind gentleman aboard the ship, who's name is Tibosa Mùsa, who is the commander of the soldiers I have brought you. Merely inform me of where to march, and I will relay such information to commander Tibosa, and we will go to meet the gathered armies, to provide what support we may." As he spoke, Sehu al Mazari knew he was in trouble. He now was going against the will of the Second Power, and yet he felt compelled to aid the people of Shimono. He heard the call of the angel Jabril in his heart, and he knew that what he was doing was right, and that the Temple, eventually, would understand why he did what he did. Hopefully.

"I will send a missive home requesting further armaments and men, and they will arrive with the speed that Holy Jabril will allow them. Now, pray tell, kind lord, before I depart to collect commander Tibosa and his soldiers, is there more that I may offer you at the present moment." He extended both hands outwards with palms upturned, a coin in one hand and a piece of carnelian, finely polished, in his other hand, as a sign of blessing and submission in equal measure.

[Shimono]

"There is a kind gentleman aboard the ship, who's name is Tibosa Mùsa, who is the commander of the soldiers I have brought you. Merely inform me of where to march, and I will relay such information to commander Tibosa, and we will go to meet the gathered armies, to provide what support we may."

The samurai of Clan Hatano and Clan Nagao were mustering at a camp laid out in the grass fields outside the walls of the city of Izumi. The banners of the two clans rippled slowly in the light breeze, and the camp was full of the sounds, smells, and sights of warriors preparing for battle. The two clans together could muster around 150 samurai, and these warriors were accompanied by retinues of attendants and other non-samurai, including smiths, oxen drivers, and bakers. Tibosa Musa and his soldiers were directed to rendezvous with the samurai at this camp, and from there they would march to join the shogun’s army.

Leading the samurai was Tetsuya Nagao, cousin to the clan leader Hiroshi and the most accomplished warrior among them. While he could no longer fight with the ferocity of his youth, when he had been nicknamed “Silver Whirlwind” for the speed and intensity of his blade, he could still lend his experience and wisdom.

“Making an alliance with foreigners…it’s a dangerous gamble,” he said in a council of war held before the arrival of the Ahaang soldiers. Lord Hatano and his son were present, as was Haru Nagao. Lord Nagao himself remained in Izumi - as Shimono’s most valuable port, it could not be left without proper supervision even during a time of war.

“So is every decision in war,” Lord Hatano replied. “But I believe we can trust these foreigners to fight by our side. Their leader seems to be an honorable man.”

“Between their soldiers and our samurai, we will be able to remove the rebels’ advantage in numbers,” Yoshi Hatano added.

“Numbers aren’t everything,” Tetsuya reminded the younger man. “When I fought on Wakashima, the pirates outnumbered us in every battle. But we prevailed, nonetheless.”

“We won’t need to fight,” Haru said, his tone colored with some mixture of boredom and frustration. “All we need to do is let Tetsuya start telling war stories. Then the Yarikawa will just fall asleep.”

This got a laugh out of everyone else in the tent, even Tetsuya. The old warrior clapped Haru on the shoulder, and the other man flinched at the impact. Then one of the attendants entered, and informed the war council that the foreign soldiers were approaching.

“Let’s go meet these strangers,” Tetsuya Nagao said as he rose from his folding stool. “I’m intrigued by Lord Nagao’s account of their strange weapons.”

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Ionen Sehu arrived back at the ship to inform the soldiers of the change in plan, he found he had to wait a moment, as Tibosa Músa had actually been aiding the merchants in moving their crates to the market to load their goods to sell, but when he returned Tibosa Músa was quite accepting of the change in plans. With his brother Ndanje and a handful of merchants he was able to scrounge up eight huntng rifle and distribute them among the volunteers assembled. Sehu and Tibosa led the band off the ship, and they marched with casual pacing to the rendezvous point.

When they came into view of the assembled defenders outside Izumi, they were in a formation six across, and abou 15 rows long. In the front was Sehu, hands extended, with a coin in one and a sign of blessing on his other. Behind him, Tibosa Músa; in stark contrast to everyone here, he wore baggy pants, and no shirt, the lack of which displayed the spiral tattoo of a great dragon on his left pectoral for which he gained his nickname, decorating a scar he had in the same spot. It was partlt obscured by a chestplate of bronze, with silver chains adorning it. In his right arm he carried a large shield of reinorced leather, patched from its time in battle, and in his left hand a small spear. Weapons lined his belt and back, as did weapons line all the soldiers behind him. The riflemen formed the first line, and they carried swords and pistols just as everybody else did as well, but various others were also armed variously with spears, javelines, clubs and smaller blades. A flute and drum tapping out a marching tune heralded their arrivel.

"Zalé, zalé!" Tibose cried out, placing his shiled firmly onto the ground. All behind him responded 'Zàl', and stood at attention for review. Even the four horses who carried the soldiers' rations stood at attention. They all sore uniforms of light green with white and brown trimmings, cloth bolstered with leather most often and sometimes also stone or metal to protect from more specific blows. Sehu, still dressed all in white, approached ahead of Tibusa and the others as they kept their distance, so not as to impose.

"Faxala hòna, my comrades. The Aháàng volunteers have arrived and are at your disposal. I am Sehu al Mazari, representative of the Second Power of Zaambate Té Aháà, and a cleric of Jabril. Behind me is Tibosa Músa, who is quite qualified and would be eager to tell you as much himself, and under his capable command are the Aháàng Volunteer Army, prepared for your review and satisfaction. I pray, how have the gods blessed you this day, my friends?"

[Shimono]

Yagata

Kimiko Arashikage had memorized the routines of the guards. They had allowed themselves to grow complacent in the span of only a few days, no doubt helped by Suzume’s copious weeping and her own feigned limpness. She had truly been lost in shame at first. The warriors of Clan Arashikage were supposed to be the best in Shimono, and those chosen to serve as bodyguards for the shogun’s family were regarded as the absolute pinnacle of samurai. But she had been surprised and allowed not only herself but her charge to be captured. It had been the appearance of Toru, the traitor, that had lit the fire within Kimiko once again. On the outside, she continued to present the appearance of a broken woman, barely reacting to any outside stimulus. But she was watching everything, making notes of vulnerabilities.

The moment came when the guards arrived with their meal. They were fed only once a day, and it was a miserable slop no doubt prepared from the scraps of Clan Takamura’s table. Neither woman was released from their chains to slurp down the foul-tasting slurry, so the guards had to get close and tip the bowls into their mouths. This was the moment that Kimiko seized. When the guard knelt down, she struck out with her legs, wrapping them around the man’s neck and pulling him closer. By the time the other guard had realized what was happening, Kimiko had gotten one chained hand on the keys. It was all she needed.

The Arashikage warrior snapped the guard’s neck with a flex of her thigh muscles, and then kicked out and propelled his limp body into the guard charging over from where Suzume was chained. In a flash, Kimiko had used the keys to unlock the cuff around one wrist, then the other. She was tired, starving, and her body ached from being continuously restrained for so long, but the adrenaline and righteous anger overpowered those frailties. She met the second guard halfway across the room with a flying kick that sent him into the wall. The back of his head left a dark red smear as he slumped to the floor.

Kimiko grabbed the sword from the belt of one guard, then rushed to release Suzume from her chains. “Come on,” she said urgently as she helped the shogun’s daughter to her feet. “We will have to move quickly.”

“I can’t,” Suzume protested. She tried to take a step and her leg gave out. She fell and had to cling to Kimiko to stay upright. Suzume wasn’t Arashikage. She hadn’t been trained in the way of the warrior. “I can’t feel my legs, Kimi. I can barely stand.”

“You have to fight through it,” Kimiko urged. “Come on! There will be more guards coming soon.”

“No, I’ll just slow you down,” Suzume pleaded. “Go. Go, Kimi! You need to warn them about Toru!”

“I’m not leaving you!” The idea went against every fiber of her being. A bodyguard was not supposed to abandon her charge, especially not when they were being held prisoner.

“They won’t hurt me,” Suzume said. “They need me as a bargaining chip. But you won’t do anyone any good chained up with me. Go!”

Kimiko knew that the longer she hesitated, the slimmer her chances of escape got. She wrapped Suzume in a tight hug, and then started running down the hallway of the Takamura stronghold dungeon. She encountered only one other guard, who she easily dispatched with her stolen blade. Perhaps the castle was emptied out, with all the warriors marching off to fight against the shogun. Maybe she could go back for Suzume…

She was ascending a staircase out of the dungeon when suddenly her path was blocked. The figure was silhouetted in the light, but who it was didn’t matter. Kimiko charged up the stairs, katana held high. Her blade clashed with that of the man on the staircase, and even going up her momentum was sufficient to force him backwards. Kimiko squinted, her eyes unused to the natural light coming in through the windows around them. As she adjusted, she could see that her opponent was a ronin, by the look of his clothing.

“Ah, Toru warned that you’d try to escape,” the ronin said with a chuckle. “Too bad you won’t be getting any further. And where’s the little princess?”

With a shout, Kimiko unleashed a furious assault on the ronin. But her sword arm was weak, and she was still adjusting to the light. The man was able to fend off her strikes without ceding ground.

“Abandoning your charge, Arashikage?”

“Out of my way!” Kimiko lunged, and the ronin expertly sidestepped the thrust and sent her sprawling backwards with a shoulder tackle. Kimiko fell backwards, then scrambled to get back to her feet. By the time she was standing again, the ronin was waiting for her. The edge of his blade hovered a hair’s breadth from her neck. There was the sound of many feet on the wood floors. Takamura guards rushed around the corner, hands on the hilts of their swords. Kimiko’s breath came hard.

“Surrender,” the ronin said. “Or I’ll tell them to go down there and take it out on your precious princess.”

“Coward!” Kimiko snarled. “I’ll kill you!”

The ronin shook his head. “Not today, Arashikage.” He gestured with the sword, bringing it just a tiny bit closer to her neck. “Back to your cell.”

[Warriorium]

Luego despues de todo esto se aburrecio el emperador de warrioria y decidio el, con su briliante mente lleno de conocimiento y sabiduria infinita, a terminar toda esta locura por fin. Desde su palacio, sintado en su asiento en su oficina, el hizo un chasquido que hizo morrir a todos de Shimono y la nacion de Zaambate Te Ahaa. En un instante, todos se envolveran con el fuego divino del emperador hecho por las gemas de infinito puestas en su guante de poder.

Amen.

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

ooc: Ah, classic Warriorium. Whelp, he got us, Shimono, we had a solid session here, but divine fire and all that, you know how it goes

[Shimono]

Iwakumi

The valley of Iwakumi was strewn with boulders, and its sides were rocky and jagged. It could not be traversed freely, or easily - men would have to move in narrow columns down the well-worn footpaths that indicated the easiest way down the valley floor, then back up the other side in the same manner. Because the valley cut across one of the main roads on the island, a bridge had been built to permit carts to cross more easily. But the bridge had been burned, and the only thing left were the blackened supports on either side.

“Burned by the rebels, or maybe it caught fire naturally and no one was around to put out the flames,” Lord Arashikage reported. He had sent scouts ahead of the main force, to investigate the likely battleground. “But the rebel army was nowhere to be seen, which means they are still on the other side.”

“Good,” Lord Shimura said. “That means we have time to cross over.”

“Or we might wait on this side, and let the rebels do the hard work,” Lord Arashikage replied.

“I do not wish to hear this argument again,” Lord Nakidori hurried to interject, before the two men became embroiled in another heated exchange. “While I recognize the advantage that lays in the defensive, there is a greater point to consider. If we defeat the rebels on this side of Iwakumi, then they can slink off and lick their wounds, and we will not be able to follow them. That would give the Yarikawa dogs time to regain strength. The longer this rebellion goes on, they will become stronger and we will look weaker. So, we must strike a decisive blow. We can only do that on the far side of the valley.”

Lord Shimura slapped one palm onto his upper leg. “Yes, exactly, my lord! And that means we must make haste, to cross the valley before the rebels approach.”

“There is more,” Lord Arashikage added. “My scouts saw the banners of Clan Oga, in the distance. It seems they are marching towards Iwakumi as well.”

“To join us, or the rebels?” Junichi Nakidori, the shogun’s son, asked the question that immediately came to everyone’s mind.

“I do not know,” Lord Arashikage answered. “I think they are coming to see who wins this battle. It’s no secret that the two armies are about to converge.”

“Coward,” Junichi muttered. “He swore an oath to us. But he’ll answer it only if it puts him on the winning side?”

“The Oga have always been grasping, and eager for power,” Lord Nakidori told his son. “Old Hiroshi knows he has the largest of the neutral clans. He knows that we cannot openly condemn this behavior, or he will go to the rebels. So he will watch the battle and pick the side that seems stronger. Which means…” The shogun looked around at the other samurai lords gathered in his tent. “We have to win.”

[Shimono]

When they came into view of the assembled defenders outside Izumi, they were in a formation six across, and about 15 rows long. In the front was Sehu, hands extended, with a coin in one and a sign of blessing on his other. Behind him, Tibosa Músa; in stark contrast to everyone here, he wore baggy pants, and no shirt, the lack of which displayed the spiral tattoo of a great dragon on his left pectoral for which he gained his nickname, decorating a scar he had in the same spot. It was partly obscured by a chestplate of bronze, with silver chains adorning it. In his right arm he carried a large shield of reinforced leather, patched from its time in battle, and in his left hand a small spear. Weapons lined his belt and back, as did weapons line all the soldiers behind him. The riflemen formed the first line, and they carried swords and pistols just as everybody else did as well, but various others were also armed variously with spears, javelins, clubs and smaller blades. A flute and drum tapping out a marching tune heralded their arrival.

"Zalé, zalé!" Tibose cried out, placing his shield firmly onto the ground. All behind him responded 'Zàl', and stood at attention for review. Even the four horses who carried the soldiers' rations stood at attention. They all wore uniforms of light green with white and brown trimmings, cloth bolstered with leather most often and sometimes also stone or metal to protect from more specific blows. Sehu, still dressed all in white, approached ahead of Tibusa and the others as they kept their distance, so as not to impose.

Tetsuya Nagao had drawn up the samurai of Clan Nagao and Clan Hatano to receive their foreign allies. Partly this was to show the power of the Shimonese warriors, who were resplendent in their lacquered iron and leather. Each man carried a long katana sheathed at his waist, and a smaller blade alongside it. Some had longbows slung on their backs. The other reason was that Tetsuya knew that even if he had limited the official reception to a small honor guard, the rest of the samurai would have been there anyway to get a look at the Ahaang.

Most intriguing to the samurai were the long rifles carried by the men in the first line. The samurai had heard about such weapons, hinawaju in the Shimonese tongue. Foreign traders had tried to sell them occasionally in Izumi. They were disdained as dishonorable, since they seemed to require no skill to wield and greatly increased the distance between killer and killed. Sometimes a criminal would get their hands on a pistol or rifle and experience a brief moment of power, but using such a weapon put a massive target on their back and they were always hunted down quickly.

“Not just foreigners,” one samurai muttered to another. “Barbarians.”

"Faxala hòna, my comrades. The Aháàng volunteers have arrived and are at your disposal. I am Sehu al Mazari, representative of the Second Power of Zaambate Té Aháà, and a cleric of Jabril. Behind me is Tibosa Músa, who is quite qualified and would be eager to tell you as much himself, and under his capable command are the Aháàng Volunteer Army, prepared for your review and satisfaction. I pray, how have the gods blessed you this day, my friends?"

As a member of Clan Nagao, stewards of the only safe harbor for foreign traders on Shimono, Tetsuya Nagao had picked up a few languages in his life. The Ahaang language was one of them. The old warrior provided a translation for the other commanders standing with him at the head and center of the assembled samurai, and then replied.

“They have blessed us with good fortune, Sehu al Mazari. I am Tetsuya Nagao, cousin of Lord Nagao and war-chief of the clan. I command the samurai of Clan Nagao and Clan Hatano, which you see before you. Your assistance is both greatly appreciated and very well-timed. Together, we shall restore the authority of the shogun and crush this despicable rebellion. I would be honored if Tibosa Musa would provide for us a demonstration of the weapons his warriors carry.”

[Shimono]

"Set course for Umugi."

Umugi was built against a large cove, formed by two fingers of land that curled out and created a narrow entrance from the open sea beyond. On one side of the cove’s mouth stood Fort Ohira, constructed after the barbarian invasion to defend the city and control access to the cove. It was a large square structure made from wood and stone, and its four watchtowers were each armed with cannons - gunpowder weapons based on captured designs used by Khotun and his invaders generations ago. They were in the hands of skilled gunners from the Black Powder Guild, which was responsible for the care and use of all such weapons on the island. The cannons remained silent as the Amity approached, allowing it to pass through the gap and enter the cove.

Lord Kagawa and his advisors gathered in the clan’s great hall to determine what would be done about this foreign ship. Some of them counseled the clan leader to treat with the merchants, and take advantage of what they might offer. Others had urged him to order the gunners of Fort Ohira to blast the ship into driftwood before it even passed through the mouth of the cove.

“The foreign merchants have much to offer us,” one advisor insisted. “Think of the great wealth the Nagao have acquired as stewards of Izumi. We could reap a similar reward now.”

“At the price of our souls?” Another advisor shook his head. “My lord, throw these barbarians into the sea, as our ancestors did so many years ago!”

Lord Kagawa held up a hand to silence the debate. “When Lord Yarikawa’s messenger came here, with news of his rebellion, I chose to support him. The Nakidori have abandoned the ways of our people. They have permitted foreigners to taint our island. I will not be complicit in such corruption.”

“But my lord -”

“However,” Lord Kagawa continued pointedly. “Neither will I ignore the potential that this ship holds. We will possess the treasures within its hold. But we will take them by force. It is time to send a message to the foreign dogs, and make them understand that Shimono is no longer theirs to play with, as a cat plays with a mouse.”

“My lord, this is a dangerous idea,” the first advisor said cautiously. “The foreigners made a treaty for safe treatment of their people. To break that treaty -”

“I made no such treaty,” Lord Kagawa snapped. “The shogun cowered in fear when the foreigners came to our shores. I will not follow his craven example. The foreigners will die - first these merchants, and then anyone who comes to try and avenge them!”

A small boat rowed out to the Amity, to show them the best way to traverse the cove and reach Umugi’s docks. A small party of Lord Kagawa’s men were waiting for the ship, dressed in fine silks and seemingly unarmed. Concealed in the folds of their robes were short wakizashi and tanto blades. When the moment was right, the samurai would slaughter the crew and take the goods in the hold for themselves.

[Mareyland]

OOC: this post was written with input and agreement from Shimono

A small boat rowed out to the Amity, to show them the best way to traverse the cove and reach Umugi’s docks. A small party of Lord Kagawa’s men were waiting for the ship, dressed in fine silks and seemingly unarmed. Concealed in the folds of their robes were short wakizashi and tanto blades. When the moment was right, the samurai would slaughter the crew and take the goods in the hold for themselves.

“Captain, I have a bad feeling about this.”

Connor Shannon, captain of the clipper ship S.S. Amity, turned and shot an inquiring look at his second mate, Wilson Page. Page was always a bit on the nervous side, but he was acting especially jumpy, and he had been since they’d passed through the mouth of the cove.

“What makes you say that?”

Wilson shook his head. “Can’t say, captain. Just…got a bad feeling about this.”

“Well, if your gut comes up with anything specific to worry about, let me know,” Connor replied. “In the meantime, I need you to translate.”

The Amity followed the small pilot boat across the cove to Umugi’s docks, and the crew hurried to tie up the ship and put down the gangplank so that the presumed welcoming party could come aboard. None of the Mareylanders seemed to think anything was amiss, except for Second Mate Page. But he was standing alongside Captain Shannon as the Shimonese man at the head of the group began to speak.

“He says he’s an emissary from Lord Kagawa, who serves as the steward of Umugi,” Wilson translated. “He wants to know what we’re doing here, since foreign trade is supposed to be restricted to Izumi.”

“Tell him we’re interested in making a new arrangement,” the captain told Wilson. “Ask him why Izumi should get to reap all the benefits of foreign trade?” The second mate duly translated the words, and the Shimonese response.

“He says that his lord thinks the same way,” Wilson said. “He says that he has been tasked with acquiring the goods we have brought.”

“Great!” Captain Shannon smiled broadly. “Well then let’s get down to business -”

The word had barely left his mouth when the samurai who had been speaking opened the captain’s throat. He moved with such speed and precision that for a moment Wilson Page thought maybe he hadn’t moved at all, and he’d simply imagined the flicker of motion. Then Connor Shannon fell to his knees, clutching at the small cut in his throat that was gushing blood. Wilson saw the short blade in the Shimonese man’s hand, dripping a few drops of the same crimson liquid.

While Wilson was still trying to comprehend what had happened, the other Shimonese burst into murderous activity. Each man had a blade in hand and they were rushing across the deck towards any sailor they could find. Wilson stumbled backwards, frantically looking around for anything to use as a weapon. One of the samurai lunged at him, and he just barely dodged the point of his short sword. The sailor was no stranger to a brawl, but typically both he and his opponent were drunk at the time. On instinct, he threw a punch at his attacker, and to the surprise of both men the blow connected.

While the samurai grabbed for his broken nose and cursed, Wilson Page raced for the opposite side of the deck. The plan was still forming in his mind when he reached the edge and took a running leap over the gunwhale and into the shimmering water of the cove. The cool, salty water swallowed him up. Above him, on the deck and in the hold of the Amity, the samurai slaughtered every Mareylander they could find. By the time a soaking wet Wilson Page crawled out of the water and into a dark hiding spot below the docks of Umugi, resolving to stay put and wait until darkness before moving any further, he was the only survivor.

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

The Maxatanga language was a complexity, in that Trade Maxatanga, the language that Sehu spoke with the samurai, was not the same language as the Watari-Maxatanga spoken by Tibosa Músa and most of his compatriots, and so Sehu had to translate what Tetsuya said to him further to the commander. "Tibosa-the-Dragon," Sehu began, and so ensnared the soldiers attention. Tibosa had not officially earned that title, and so addressing him as such was somewhat taboo, but made him sound more accomplished than he was (which is to say, Tibosa was quite accomplished, either way). "The kind lord Tetsuya Nagao and all assembled desire for a demonstration of the firearms. Are you capable of obliging them?"

Tibosa smiled disappointedly. He knew the firearms would be of great fascination, but he hoped these samurai would not be prizing the weaponry over the men who would wield it. That would be a mistake, Tibosa thought, as he, on command, drew the pistol from its holster. "Capable and eager, sir." He moved in broad, wide movements, so that nobody would be perturbed by him drawing the weapon. He opened up the chamber and, looking to Sehu for approval, gently held out the pistol for anyone's inspection. "It is an eight cartridge dragoon style pistol. It can be fired eight times before it needs reloading in moderate succession, and has stopping power up to 70 yards, but accuracy only to 30 at the most. An armored opponent would probably survive a direct shot from the full 70 yards, but much closer than that and it would severely ruin even their day." Tibosa spoke, and Sehu translated what needed to be translated.

Slowly, and again in broad motions, Tibosa chambered a single round and clicked the gun back into place. He pulled back the hammer with a satisfying click and pointed it off into the field where no one stood. "It is an oldish model, but it still fits like a glove." He drew a deep breath, focused his shot, and after 4 seconds of tension, he pulled the trigger. There was a click, and a louder clunk, before finally a crack like lightening striking too close and a cloud of blue gray smoke emerged from the tiny little gun. The projectile left at fatal speeds, and shattered a massive chunk off of the rock where Tibosa had aimed it. Tibosa gave a subtle sigh of relief; his target was about 55 yards out, well above the accuracy range he gave. He chose this target in particular to prove a point, and he hoped it would work. He caught the idea he and his countrymen were being talked down on by Shimonese soldiers, and he wanted to be sure it was known that they were professionals.

"If this small number is to your liking," he calmly pulled back, and Sehu began to translate again. "Then the bigger ones will fill your dreams for weeks, sirs. Yet our ammunition is scarce, and if you want a demonstration of those, I will not deny you as much, but would request more proper targets, that if we may be expending our munitions, at least we would be doing it with purpose and effect, sirs."

[Shimono]

There was a click, and a louder clunk, before finally a crack like lightning striking too close and a cloud of blue gray smoke emerged from the tiny little gun. The projectile left at fatal speeds, and shattered a massive chunk off of the rock where Tibosa had aimed it. Tibosa gave a subtle sigh of relief; his target was about 55 yards out, well above the accuracy range he gave. He chose this target in particular to prove a point, and he hoped it would work. He caught the idea he and his countrymen were being talked down on by Shimonese soldiers, and he wanted to be sure it was known that they were professionals.

"If this small number is to your liking," he calmly pulled back, and Sehu began to translate again. "Then the bigger ones will fill your dreams for weeks, sirs. Yet our ammunition is scarce, and if you want a demonstration of those, I will not deny you as much, but would request more proper targets, that if we may be expending our munitions, at least we would be doing it with purpose and effect, sirs."

The samurai all drew closer together to see the weapon in operation. It did not look like the weapons which had occasionally arrived on the island. Those typically required either a burning match or a flint mechanism to ignite the gunpowder within. This seemed to be a much more advanced design. Any doubters were silenced the moment the pistol went off and blasted a chunk from the rock. There were ripples of murmured conversation. Tetsuya Nagao’s eyes widened in surprise, but then he nodded in satisfaction.

“Thank you, Tibosa Ryu,” he said, adding a Shimonese name that meant dragon. “I think your point has been made adequately. We will preserve your ammunition for battle, where it will be most useful.”

“And battle will likely be upon us soon,” Lord Hatano added. “We have received word that the shogun and his army are very close to a confrontation with the rebels. We must make haste to join them.”

The Ahaang soldiers were welcomed into the camp. Tents, cooking pots, and other necessities had been provided for them - based on the initial conversation with Sehu, Lord Hatano had assumed that the foreigners had not expected to go on the march. Supplies of food had also been set aside for their use. The Shimonese staples were rice and fish, supplemented by noodles and vegetables. Accompanying the army was a collection of attendants, servants, and peasants who drove the wagons and cared for the beasts of burden. There were also women among the camp - some were the wives of those peasants and attendants, who made money by mending and washing clothes for the samurai. Others were the personal servants, and in some cases mistresses, of the samurai lords. One could usually tell who was who by the quality of their clothing. The army spent the rest of the day preparing to march, and began to move before dawn the next morning. According to the last message from the shogun, the main armies were about to clash near Iwakumi - it would take several days of marching to reach them.

“The battle will likely be resolved before we arrive,” Tetsuya explained. “But one battle will not decide this conflict. If the gods bless us, and the shogun is victorious, then he will need our reinforcements to pursue the rebels back to their strongholds.”

“And if he loses?” Haru Nagao asked.

Tetsuya frowned. “Then he will need our help in staving off disaster.”

While the foreign soldiers settled into camp, Haru rushed to his tent to compose another letter to Lord Yarikawa. The rebel leader had to be informed of the danger that these barbarians posed to the success of the uprising. He sealed the letter and entrusted it to one of his servants, who hurried out of camp with the excuse that he was being sent to arrange for more food and supplies to be gathered, since the camp had just grown by eighty people.

[Shimono]

The shogun’s army crossed the valley and made camp on the opposite side, awaiting the arrival of the rebel army. It appeared the next day. As was customary, a meeting was held in the space between the two armies. The shogun, Lord Masao Nakidori, rode out accompanied by his son Junichi and Lord Katashi Shimura. At a point halfway between their army and the rebels, they met Lord Takeshi Yarikawa, his son Noboru, and Lord Kenta Takamura.

“Lord Yarikawa, it’s not too late,” the shogun said. “The ground is not yet stained with blood. I offer you this one chance. Release my daughter and lay down your arms. Then, we will discuss your grievances.”

Lord Yarikawa laughed. “My grievances? You cannot offer me redress of my grievances, Lord Nakidori. Not until your head has been separated from your shoulders! I make a similar offer: surrender the title of shogun to me, and I will release your daughter unharmed.”

“You cowardly bastard!” Junichi shouted. “You would use a woman as a hostage to win your rebellion?”

“I will do whatever it takes to save this island,” Lord Yarikawa declared. “Your father has corrupted us, allowing these foreigners to stand on our sacred soil. Our ancestors fought, side by side, to expel the barbarians. Now you invite them back in?”

“I am doing what is best for Shimono,” Lord Nakidori said firmly. “If you are too blinded, or stubborn, to see that, then you deserve to be left behind in the past.”

Again, Lord Yarikawa laughed. “It is you who has been blinded by greed and false promises. The foreigners will not stop with trade. They will extend their tentacles until this island groans under their domination once more. And those who suffer in the future will curse your name, Masao Nakidori.” He paused for a moment, then continued. “I invoke the ancient rituals. A single duel, to decide the outcome of this struggle. My son against yours. The future of our clans, to decide the future of the island.”

The two parties withdrew back to their respective armies to prepare for the duel. Junichi tested every strap of his armor and every inch of his blade. Kichiro Shimura, son of the clan leader, kept glancing over towards the rebel camp where Noboru Yarikawa was doubtlessly doing the same thing.

“You can take him,” Kichiro told his friend. “You’re the best swordsman on the island. Noboru is a spoiled brat.”

“He’s a worthy opponent,” Junichi cautioned. “I can’t be overconfident. If I expose a weakness, he will exploit it.”

“He’ll expose his weakness first,” Kichiro predicted. “He’ll come at you like a typhoon, full of anger and pride. If you can weather the storm, he’ll have nothing left in reserve. That will be your opportunity.”

The two young men clasped arms in solemn farewell, and then Junichi began to make his way to the field between the two armies alone. Noboru emerged from the rebel ranks, coming to meet him. The two men were only a few months apart in age, and of similar build. Junichi had fought Noboru before, in a tournament at the imperial city of Hiyoshi three springs ago. The Yarikawa heir had a slight strength advantage over him, but he was slower. It would be like Kichiro said - survive the opening blows, then counterattack.

Like a young branch, you bend, but do not break. When the pressure releases, you spring back.

The lessons of his instructors ran through Junichi’s head as he drew up face-to-face with Noboru. His opponent seemed cocky - it could be arrogance, or it could be a facade to cover up fear. He could not read too deeply into anything yet. Most duels began with an exchange of bows, but neither man was feeling especially eager to show their opponent such honor. Both men were silent as they drew their blades and brought them into ready stances. After a moment’s pause, Noboru lunged forward and the contest began.

Noboru’s strikes were powerful, but simple. The man was like a charging boar, single-minded and focused but inelegant. Junichi parried or dodged each strike in turn, giving ground generously. Each step backwards was a step forwards for Noboru. Make him spend the energy to reach me. The more Junichi avoided confrontation, the more frustrated Noboru became. Frustration clouds the mind. A heavy double-handed swing forced Junichi not just to step aside, but drop to one knee and pivot in a sort of half-roll. Suddenly the two men had reversed positions, with their backs to the enemy camp. Noboru had to readjust, change direction, and that brief repositioning broke his momentum. The time had come.

Junichi unleashed a flurry of strikes, leveraging his speed and conditioning to overwhelming Noboru’s defenses. The bigger man could push through for a time, but he was on the back foot now. Junichi feinted as if he was about to step back, perhaps to regain his breath. Noboru took the bait and lunged, but instead of driving Junichi back further he fell into the trap. A twist of Junichi’s wrist and a shift of his shoulders sent Noboru’s blade flying out of his hand. The heir to Clan Yarikawa had just a moment to register the disarming maneuver before the heir to Clan Nakidori struck out with a well-placed kick to the leg, forcing Noboru to drop to his knees in front of Junichi.

Noboru looked up at Junichi in disbelief. Junichi began to bring his blade up for the killing blow that would separate Noboru’s head from his shoulders. When the blade was raised, he hesitated, for just a moment. And then a terrible pain exploded under his right shoulder. An arrow had struck him in the back. Junichi grunted in pain, and felt the grip on his blade weaken.

From the ranks of the rebel army, the ronin leader Rikuto lowered his bow. “Stupid samurai.”

[Shimono]

The shock lingered over the two armies for a long moment. Then, at the same time, the leaders of both sides shouted the command to charge forward. Two lines of warriors rushed towards each other, set to collide right where Noboru and Junichi both knelt on the grass. Warriors from Clan Nakidori hurried to Junichi’s side, picking the young man up and helping him back towards the camp. Samurai from Clan Yarikawa rushed to Noboru, but he waved them off. “I can still fight,” he snapped. “Give me a sword!”

The samurai of the shogun and his allies crashed into the samurai and ronin who fought for the rebels. The field was filled with the sounds of blades clashing against armor and other blades. Men were shouting war cries, and cries of pain. The two lines of battle merged into a single, sprawling melee containing hundreds of men. In the midst of the fighting, Kichiro Shimura cut his way towards Noboru Yarikawa.

“Dishonorable coward!” Kichiro shouted. “Come here Noboru, and I’ll finish what Junichi started!”

Noboru met the charging Shimura heir head on, fighting fiercely despite his exhaustion and the injury to his leg. This time it was Kichiro who attacked with abandon, hacking and slashing at Noboru who stumbled backwards in retreat. He was rescued by the appearance of Kentaro Takamura, son of the lord of Clan Takamura, who shouted Kicihro’s name. The young samurai shifted his attack to target the son of the man who had betrayed and imprisoned his betrothed. But Kichiro had spent his energy, while Kentaro was fresh. Soon it was the heir to Clan Takamura who was on the attack. A single moment of opportunity was all Kentaro needed. His blade slashed out and found the narrow gap between the plates of Kichiro’s armor. He groaned in pain and clutched at his side.

Seeing their young lord in danger, a trio of Clan Shimura samurai rushed over to defend him. They kept the laughing Kentaro at bay while Kichiro retreated out of the battle.

The shogun, Lord Shimura, and Lord Arashikage were in the thick of the fighting, rallying their men and slaying any rebel samurai or ronin foolish enough to challenge them. Then, suddenly, someone shouted, “Clan Oga is coming!” In the distance, even through the chaos of the battle raging around them, the three lords could see the banners of the neutral clan emerging from the forests on the field’s edge.

“They’re flying the banner of Clan Yarikawa,” Lord Shimura spat. “The coward has sided with the traitors!”

“We must withdraw,” Lord Arashikage urged. “We cannot match them. My lord, order the retreat.”

“They will slaughter us if we try to cross the valley now,” the shogun reminded him. “We have no choice but to fight on!”

“No, my lord.” Lord Arashikage grabbed Masao Nakidori’s arm. “You must escape, and continue the struggle. My men will remain and keep the enemy from pursuing.” It was an offer of sacrifice - the Arashikage samurai were the fiercest fighters on the island, but they would be massively outnumbered. The shogun bowed his head in respect, then clasped Lord Arashikage’s arm.

“You honor me with your sacrifice, Lord Arashikage.”

“I honor you by performing my duty,” Lord Arashikage replied. “Now go, my lord!”

The shogun gave the order, and the samurai of Clan Nakidori and Clan Shimura - those that still survived - began to disengage and withdraw from the melee. The victorious rebels, seeing their enemy retreat, surged forward to pursue, but the samurai of Clan Arashikage stood firm. Each warrior battled a dozen men at once, a whirlwind of flashing steel. They sold their lives dearly, to buy time for their allies to escape from the death which soon overtook them.

[Zaambate Te Ahaa]

Irough the language barrier would not be simple to overcome, the Aháàng soldiers were delighted by the hospitality of the Shimonese. Fish was the main staple of many a diet in their culture, and many of them had not had proper hot tea in weeks. Eagerly, they would share their own rations with the samurai, which consisted of fish and other meat jerky, various spices , tobacco, and more. A few had brought instruments as well - mostly drummers and floutists, but there was a guitarist among them - and had settled in and played for the samurai as a sign of gratitude. They showed the Shimonese the protective and offensive sigils and the runes they bore on their armor, uniforms, weapons and shields. They kept their manners about them, though nearly any attempt at speaking Shimonese, except in rare cases, was butchered.

"Ròníñ", Tibosa would say whenever speaking of the ronin that the rebels had hired. He had the right idea, but his accent made the sounds all curvy, as Maxatanga tended to do. "I have dealt with their type on many occasion." He had not the chance to properly introduce himself to lord Nagao, but he tried to add his most relevent credentials for Sehu to translate. "I have been a member of the Bounty Hunters' Guild since I was sixteen, and have been receiving military schooling since I was ten. I have received recognition from both the Bounty Hunters Guild as well as the military proper for my capabilities in devising complex maneuvering against unconventional opponents, such as these... Ròníñ that the rebels ally with. They are not men of honor, but they are men of cunning. From this, I can already predict and anticipate the treachery theymay levy against us."

Most of the soldiers had settled into the encampment with little trouble or concern. Three men stood out in the field, with the horses, however, to guard them while they grazed, and also to keep an eye out for anything suspicious. They would notice Haru Nagao's departure, but not know well enough to address it for any reason. They passed a pipe among one another, and watched as the horses grazed. "Do you think we could die here?" One of them asked at last. "I didn't honestly think we would be fighting anyone here."

"You volunteered, stoneskull." Said another between inhaling and exhaling, voice strained. "When would a mission ever go to plan? I haven't even seen the market since we got here, and now we have marching orders."

"Sounds about right to me." Said the third. "We might die, buy we might not. This is all, you see, the Shimonese experience."

"The Shimonese exprience." The one smoking repeated and laughed, handing off the pipe. "The Aháàng experience. The military experience. The world experience." He tapered off, boring himself. "No, it will do no good to die. Don't go doing that, Basá."

"Wasn't in the plan." Said Basá, looking out over the field. "Come, let us get the horses into the camp. I am eager to bed, that we may depart." And so they did. Aháàng sentries would stay at the edges of the camp to ensure no funny business, but just as well it was that the Aháàng volunteers were simply waiting for the marching to start.